


how sweet and wonderful life can be

by fangirl_squee



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: F/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 19:42:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11607645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee
Summary: Gig makes friends with their hosts.





	how sweet and wonderful life can be

**Author's Note:**

> the moral of this story is: don't ever joke about writing something because you will absolutely end up writing it.
> 
> title from 'let's get it on' by marvin gaye (it seemed like a good, motowny choice)
> 
>  
> 
> thanks to maddie, for betaing and encouraging every single version of my nonsense.

Gig stays up talking to Surge long after the others have gone to bed for the night. Gig feels like he has a thousand questions about Quire, but he and Surge mostly end up talking shop about video feeds and cyberwear. It’s equally fascinating, watching Surge’s large paws, gentle, as he handles the delicate electronics, pointing out where he’s patched and repatched them over the years. Gig takes out his eye to show Surge the way the camera works. Surge doesn’t flinch when Gig hands it over and it makes Gig feel light.

 

Jane drops in and out of the conversation, laying a hand on his shoulder as she asks the occasional question on her way through the room. Gig asks her questions in turn and she pulls out maps and old staticy holograms to answer him. Her patient gaze on him as she speaks makes Gig feel warm.

 

He and Surge eventually migrate back to the workshop under the pretext of comparing vehicles, quickly getting sidetracked by music. They sit on the dusty floor, records spread around them as Surge leans over to switch out the discs.

 

Gig has never heard any of them before and he is absolutely _delighted_. He wishes he could broadcast every album back to the fleet.

 

“You can do that?” says Surge.

 

“Sure!” says Gig. “That’s sort of my job, to record everything. That’s what the eye is for.”

 

“Can’t imagine they’d be expecting you to transmit music,” says Surge, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

“Hey. It’s really good music,” says Gig, putting his hand over Surge’s paw.

 

Surge’s smooth fur is warm under his touch. Gig must leave his hand there a fraction too long, because Surge turns his attention from the back of the album cover he was examining to Gig. Gig feels his cheeks heat up, hurriedly withdrawing his hand.

 

“Sorry,” he says quickly.

 

“Nothing to be sorry for,” says Surge, laying his paw over Gig’s other hand.

 

Gig smiles up at him. Surge leans down, almost imperceptible if you didn’t have a cybereye. Gig has never been happier that he does.

 

He stretches up to meet Surge. Kissing someone with whiskers is a new experience. They brush Gig’s cheek and he pulls back, biting back a giggle.

 

Surge puts a paw on the side of Gig’s face. “You okay?”

 

“Yeah, definitely,” says Gig. “It’s just-- it tickles.”

 

Surge grins. “That’s just what Janey says.”

 

The bubbling, giddy feeling in Gig’s chest vanishes. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to--”

 

“Don’t worry about her,” says Surge. “She likes ya.”

 

“Oh,” Gig breathes out.

 

“Unless that’s not how you space folks do things,” says Surge.

 

“No, it is,” says Gig, “well, for some people it is. There’s all sorts of different--” he stops himself before he can go on a tangent. “Anyway. As long as it’s okay.”

 

“It sure is,” says Surge. “C’mere.”

 

Surge lifts Gig into his lap, so that Gig’s long legs are stretched either side of him. Surge’s whole body is very warm, especially compared to the cooling night air. It makes it easy to lean into Surge’s touch, pressing his body close as he leans up to kiss Surge again. One of Surge’s paws cradle the back of Gig’s head while the other rucks up his tank top, stretching the fabric as he runs his paw up and down Gig’s back. Gig whines, his fingers gripping the short fur of Surge’s shoulders.

 

There’s a sigh behind them. Gig twists, looking over his shoulder to see Jane looking at them, leaning her hip against the doorway. The long, deep green dressing gown she’s wearing has certainly seen better days but it looks breathtaking on her, the long slit up the thigh showing a sliver of ink-patterned skin.

 

Jane raises an eyebrow at him and Gig feels himself flush. He’d jump back, but Surge still has a hold of him by the waist, keeping Gig in his lap - he’s not being _forceful_ , but Gig would have to exert more force to break free than he really wants to.

 

“Picking up strays again?” says Jane.

 

Surge frowns. Gig can feel Surge’s paws flex on his sides, and he shivers at the sensation.

 

“Hey now, Janey,” says Surge, “don’t be like that.”

 

Jane sighs again, long-suffering, but there’s a soft smile on her face as she walks towards them. She runs a hand through Gig’s hair and he leans into her touch.

 

“At least this one’s cute,” says Jane.

 

“Thank you,” says Gig, grinning widely at her.

 

Jane laughs, ruffling his hair a little. “Move over.”

 

Gig blinks up at her. His mind takes a moment to process what she’s asking before he beams, wriggling over to sit over one of Surge’s thighs. He bites his lip at the new sensation, muffling a gasp. He’s so distracted that he almost misses the sight of Jane as she neatly straddles Surge’s other thigh, placing one hand on Surge’s chest as she leans up to kiss him.

 

Surge keeps one hand on Gig’s side while the other runs up and down Jane’s back. She sighs, rocking against Surge’s thigh as she deepens the kiss. She cradles the back of Surge’s head, her other hand stroking through the fur of his chest.

 

Gig watches, his hips rolling forward to mimic Jane’s movements, a feeling like liquid heat trickling through him, pooling between his legs. Surge makes a rough noise at the back of his throat and Jane breaks off the kiss, sliding her hand to cup his cheek, her thumb brushing over his whiskers. Surge puts his paw over her hand, smiling down her.

 

Jane smiles back for a moment before turning her attention to Gig. Under the heat of her gaze, his toes curl and his hands flex a little where he’s gripping Surge's fur.

 

“My turn,” says Jane, leaning over to kiss him.

 

She slides her hand over his shoulder and along his neck to bury her hand in his hair. Gig runs his hand along her arm, not quite sure how to reach more of her without losing his position. Surge’s hand is steady on his side, supporting him as he twists a little more, trying to get a better angle as he palms her breast.

 

Jane makes a pleased noise into his mouth. He repeats the motion, trying to recreate the exact pitch of the sound. He manages to get it, albeit a louder version of it, as he bites at her bottom lip. The noise goes right through him, and he shudders.

 

Surge shifts under them and Gig and Jane both turn to look at him, their hands still tangled in each other.

 

“Don’t mind me,” says Surge, his voice low, “just making myself comfortable.”

 

Jane gins, slow and deadly. “I think Gig and I can help with that.”

 

She takes Gig’s hand, tangling their fingers together. With their hands still joined she guides Gig’s movements, running down Surge’s chest, lightly touching across the waistband of his pants. She skirts their hands around the bulge in Surge’s pants and Surge groans, hips rolling up slightly. Jane smiles, looking pleased.

 

Slowly, slowly, she guides their hands down onto Surge. Surge’s eyes flutter shut and he tips his head back, biting his lip. His whiskers tremble. Gig can't take his eyes off him.

 

Jane rolls her hips, copying the rhythm of their joined hands, and Gig follows her lead. He can feel Surge’s muscles tense under him. He can feel Jane’s leg rubbing against his where they’re pressed together between Surge. He can feel a trickle of sweat run down his back, making the fabric of his tank top stick to his skin. Gig lets out a shuddering breath.

 

Surge’s paw tightens on his waist and Gig hears himself give a breathy squeak. Jane huffs a laugh, leaning over to kiss him again, gasping into his mouth with each movement of her hips.

 

Gig slides his hand up her thigh, under the the skirt of the dressing gown. He runs his fingers along the soft curve of her thigh before dipping down between her legs. Her underwear is _soaked_ , clinging to her skin, and Gig fumbles for a moment before he manages to pull it aside. Jane groans as he brushes a finger over her clit, arching toward his hand.

 

Surge slides his paw up her side, pulling at the collar of the dressing gown to reveal more ink-covered skin, kissing down the side of her neck. His fur brushes against Gig, and Gig shivers. Surge turns towards him, whiskers twitching. He nuzzles Gig’s face as he leans in, nipping at Gig’s lips before he kisses him. Gig groans, leaning as far into Surge as he can without taking his hand off Jane.

 

He feels Surge’s paw brush against his, and he breaks off the kiss to see Surge’s paw disappearing under Jane’s skirts. He can feel Surge’s fingers moving against his, stretching out the fabric of Jane’s underwear in order to touch her. Surge’s fur feels wet, where it touches Gig’s fingers.

 

Jane reaches out, grabbing at the fabric of his tank top roughly to pull him closer. Her hand winds through his hair, gripping it tight and Gig groans, fingers slipping. Surge takes his place, pulling soft, breathy groans from Jane with his quickening movements. She comes on a gasp, her hands tangled in Gig’s hair and the fur of Surge’s shoulder.

 

Gig lets her ride through in before he moves his hand. She leans over to rest her head on his shoulder for a moment, her breathing slowly evening out. She leans back a little to look at Gig, putting a hand on his cheek and rubbing a thumb across, the way she had to Surge earlier.

 

“I have to say,” says Jane, “you’re definitely one of my favourite guests we’ve had.”

 

“Told you she liked you,” says Surge.

 

His paw flexes on Gig’s waist again and Gig gasps softly.

 

“Well, I try to be a polite guest,” Gig manages.

 

“And you have been,” says Jane. She smiles her wide and deadly smile again. “Now. Let us be good hosts.”

**Author's Note:**

> this never happened and I was never here


End file.
